


Much Aching

by titties



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Mustaches, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-28 22:53:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16732182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titties/pseuds/titties
Summary: It had taken Sid longer than he was comfortable admitting to realize just what caused the change in Geno. It’s not like Geno was any help. The only place Geno was easy was in bed. The rest of the time he was recalcitrant at best, moody and unwilling to talk about anything close to emotions, instead preferring grand gestures.





	Much Aching

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to [ this man's ](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DsieuBgWsAYpUNo.jpg) mustache. In this house we love mustaches. 
> 
> Huge thanks to betas S and J as always. Any mistakes are mine. Don't like don't read etc etc. Enjoy!

Sid loved November. November meant hockey: hockey that had gone on long enough to start getting good. By November, you knew who in the league was going to be good that year. Who had hot hands and great legs, who made you want to stop and stare. Barring the break outs that always happened near the end of the season, you knew who to watch out for. It meant you knew where you team stood, generally speaking: whether you were going to be good that year, the kind of good that meant lifting the Cup; or whether you were going to spend most of it floundering.

November also meant Geno. October meant Geno too, of course, but November Geno was a different beast altogether. They’d only been together for a couple years, but that had been enough time to recognize the pattern: to recognize November Geno. November Geno was normal Geno but more: broad and brash on the ice, making his presence known in points and penalty minutes. Off the ice was a different story altogether. Off the ice, Geno was solicitous and sweet, for once not playing at being coy and instead just being coy.

It had taken Sid longer than he was comfortable admitting to realize just what caused the change in Geno. It’s not like Geno was any help. The only place Geno was easy was in bed. The rest of the time he was recalcitrant at best, moody and unwilling to talk about anything close to emotions, instead preferring grand gestures.

It was the mustache.

Geno never really did Movember. He’d do it for a few days and then forget and shave. Even when he was doing it he’d leave the rest of his face unshaved, patchy and sparse as it was. His skin was always smooth, soft against the roughness of Sid’s own face. Geno’s patchy facial hair made Sid look like a mountain man in comparison. And Geno _liked_ that.

Sid could grow a mustache at any time, but November was special. In November, it was expected—anticipated, and the anticipation clearly did something for Geno. And anything that did something for Geno did something for Sid.

Sometimes, Sid thought, you just got lucky.

 

* * *

  

It usually took about two weeks into November for Geno to get really riled up—unless, of course, Sid started growing it earlier, like he did this year. Sid found that the older he got, the less patience he had for certain things. It was easy enough to start growing out the mustache a week or so early. He was on a point streak, and that was excuse enough.

It wasn’t as if Sid had some sort of dastardly plan. Geno was already a sure thing; Sid had done his requisite wooing. Geno was, for all intents and purposes, his now. He was just going to grow his mustache out and watch Geno turn, predictably, into putty in his hands.

It didn’t take long for Geno to start getting antsy around Sid, maybe ten days in total. Long enough for his mustache to come in dark, better than the years before when he’d tried it. Enough for him to start growing out the rest of his beard a little, to get the full look.

It happened after the Coyotes game. They had just broken their losing streak, and Sid was exultant. There was no use denying to himself that he was a big part of why they had won—he was just as responsible for the losses, after all. So he didn’t feel bad about taking credit, at least privately, for the wins.

Sid waited until after the reporters filed out, after he said his platitudes and sound bites, before going up to Geno. Geno had long since stripped out of his base layers, but Sid managed to catch him right before he went to shower.

“G,” Sid said, grabbing Geno’s arm and pulling him in close, “Mine after?”

He said it like a question, but they both knew it wasn’t.

Geno’s eyes dipped down to Sid’s mouth, or just above it. “Yeah, Sid.”

Sid smiled just a little. “So clean up, eh?”

Geno pinked up, cheeks to the tips of his ears, and scowled at Sid before walking away. Sid watched him go, a view he’d never get tired of.

 

* * *

  

Geno’s car was parked outside Sid’s house as he pulled up, his too-expensive car more crooked than Sid would ever leave his.

Sid rubbed at his jaw as he walked up to his house, barely restraining from whistling in joy. Sid didn’t bother calling out to Geno as he walked in—he knew where he’d be. He shuffled out of his shoes and shoved them to the side before chucking his jacket on the coat rack, not bothering to keep it neat.

He bounded up the stairs, making way for the bedroom, jittery with leftover adrenaline and the prospect of more to come. Geno was there waiting, just as Sid had expected. Head down, hair still damp and curling around his neck, loose shirt with the neckline stretched out enough that Sid could see the glint of his necklace against his skin.

“Hi there,” Sid said, leaning against the doorframe.

“Hi,” Geno said softly, a sweet blush forming on his cheeks.

He looked so welcoming sitting there—home in the shape of a person; home in Sid’s home.

“Come here,” Geno said, impatient as always. The second Sid got close enough, Geno made grabby hands, pulling him in by his shirt and then hips.

His hands slid to grab at Sid’s ass, pulling him in close as Sid bent over awkwardly to finally get his kiss. Geno was tall enough, even sitting down, that it wasn’t too much of a bend, easy enough that Sid kept at it for awhile. Even with how chapped his lips always were during the season, Geno’s lips were soft, plush against his own.

Sid dreamed about Geno’s lips, even still; even now that he got to touch them. Fat bottom lip, sweet cupid’s bow; everything he could want and more. He’d been thinking about them, about Geno, ever since he was a horny teenager. Geno’s mouth was always so hot, messy with saliva but only in the best way.

Sid pulled back, lips tacky and sticking like they too didn’t want to let go. The pose was killer on his back, but worth it. Sid would do just about anything to kiss Geno. The top of Geno’s mouth was red, rubbed a little raw already by Sid’s mustache, and Sid couldn’t help but imagine how the rest of Geno would look like after he had his way.

Geno’s hands slid up from Sid’s ass to his back tugging him down for more kisses, his mouth parted just a little in the way that drove him insane. Sid’s hands found themselves on Geno’s face, holding him just where he wanted him.

“Took long time,” Geno said when Sid finally pulled back.

“Sorry.” Sid could hear how breathy he sounded.

“You not,” said Geno, but he seemed pleased anyways.

Sid smiled. “Scoot up. I’m an old man, you can’t have me bending over like this too long.”

Geno obliged, but gave Sid a hard time, as always. “If you old then what am I?”

“Really old, I guess, huh?” Sid said, crawling between Geno’s spread legs.

“You want hot young thing?” Geno asked, pretending to scowl even as he wriggled out of his shirt, narrowly missing clocking Sid in the face.

Sid laughed his huge dumb laugh, “Where’d you even learn that? Who’s teaching you these things?”

“I have friends!” Geno said, voice cutting off as Sid bent down to get at Geno’s chest.

He couldn’t help himself. Geno was so much to take in, and his whole giant body was spread out like the world’s best buffet. Geno’s chest was particularly distracting: firm pecs and a smattering of hair, tight dark nipples that were so sensitive Sid swore that, were he a more patient man, he could make Geno come from them alone.

Geno’s whole body twitched when Sid’s mustache first grazed his nipples, legs automatically coming up to wrap around Sid’s waist.

It would be so easy to be distracted; to stay just like this, wrapped up with Geno. To bite against the meat of his pec and rub his nipples raw, so easy to just rut against each other until they came in their pants and roll over before passing out. But Sid had a plan, and being able to look his dry cleaner in the eyes after this was a part of it.

Sid pressed one last sucking kiss to Geno’s left pec, pulling back to admire his handiwork even as Geno protested him stopping.

“Come on,” Sid said, quickly unbuttoning his shirt. “Get your pants off.”

“Maybe I just watch,” Geno said, even as he pulled his pants off.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sid said, watching Geno watch him.

His belt and pants were quick work. He was old hat at this, even with Geno all around him, distracting. Geno used his long legs to help him pull off his underwear, more hindrance than help, but Sid would never stop him.

“Is good view,” Geno said, giving Sid an obvious once over.

“Not bad from up here either,” Sid said. Geno was so much to look at.

Geno looked to the side quickly, still embarrassed any time Sid complimented him, even after all these years. Sid leant down, not quite letting his weight rest on Geno, half a push up, to rub his mouth against Geno’s neck. Not quite biting or kissing, just letting his mustache chafe the delicate skin there. Geno reacted as Sid had suspected he would, big hands clutching at Sid’s shoulders pulling him down close.

They were both too old for hickeys, but beard burn could be excused as a rash from equipment. Sid took advantage of that. He loved this, his face pressed against Geno’s neck, the smell and warmth of him, how sensitive Geno was here. Enough that he kept twitching just a little as Sid alternated between rubbing the delicate skin of his open mouth and then his mustache against him. Sid broke just a little and sucked at the sweet mole on Geno’s neck, the one that always seemed to taunt him.

Geno was surprisingly quiet. He was always a bit noisy in bed once they got going, but he was just making little sounds in the back of his throat, grinding against Sid’s belly. It was hard work to pull away from Geno, but Sid was used to putting in the work to get his reward.

Sid cleared his throat, pulling his hands away so he wouldn’t get distracted again. “Turn over.”

Geno resisted for a little, just to prove he could, that he didn’t bend to every one of Sid’s whims, but he eventually did.

“You’re taking your sweet time,” Sid said, narrowly avoiding Geno kicking him in the kidneys.

“Yes, very sweet,” Geno agreed, stretching out onto his chest while Sid grabbed at his hips to keep them up.

Geno was soft, with a nice layer of fat around his hips and, of course, around his ass. He still had some summer tan leftover, low tan lines stretched across his hip fading into the pale skin of his ass. That ass. Sid would never get over that ass, round and pale but nicely pink. Sid didn’t bother stopping himself from grabbing at it, squeezing the flesh in his hands.

Sid wasted no time. He’d been thinking about this all day, all month. Every morning that he chose not to shave, he’d look himself in the mirror and think of this.

Sid held Geno open so he could lick at him, softly at first, wishing he had another set of hands so he could fondle Geno’s dick, tight against his belly. Geno’s thighs were tense from the start. Sid always had to work his way up to being firm, or Geno would get too sensitive—especially with the mustache.

Geno’s entire body was taut, clenching and unclenching as Sid worked him up, licking firmer and firmer until he could lick his way inside. He wasn’t careful with the mustache as he might have been in the past, rubbing it purposefully against the rim of Geno’s hole just to hear the punched out noises Geno would make.

Sid let himself get lost in it. He loved this, doing this. Geno loved it too—too much maybe, always rocking back onto Sid’s tongue, trying to fuck himself on it. It’s why they had to do it this way, why Sid had to have all the leverage, lest Geno break his nose.

Tits down and ass up, Geno was a dream, spreading his legs farther and farther with every jab of Sid’s tongue until Sid had to haul him back up.

“Fuck!” Geno said, voice broken and thick. Sid wanted to bottle up that sound, immortalize it, take it out when he was having a rough day.

Geno was sloppy wet with spit by then. Sid could have fit in a finger if he wanted, but he stayed fucking Geno with just his tongue. He wanted to focus on just this, the spit gathering in his mustache as he made Geno cry with just his tongue.

Sid tried to gather Geno close without pulling away, tongue still working against Geno’s hole, hands grabbing at the thick of Geno’s thighs and ass and hips. He worked his tongue around Geno’s hole, giving it a break from fucking inside.

Sid’s tongue felt thick in his mouth when he pulled back to say, “Hold yourself open.”

Geno groaned and did as he was told, freeing up Sid’s hands to roam. He gave Geno’s dick a friendly grope, saying hello after he’d neglected it for so long. He loved Geno’s dick, long and deceptively thick, pink as hell and always hanging out in Geno’s pants. His arms weren’t quite long enough to reach Geno’s chest, just enough to give it a graze.

Geno was really worked up, groaning low and loud, hands tight where they were grabbing his own ass, no doubt leaving a mark. Sid pulled back to kiss at Geno’s fingers where they were pressed into the meat of his ass, rubbing his mustache against them.

“Sid,” Geno said, sounding desperate. Sid could imagine how he looked, hair a mess, pink on the back of his neck, impossible arch in his back.

Sid pulled back just enough to spit thickly, giving his tongue a break and working up enough spit to get a finger inside Geno.

“Oh,” Geno moaned once Sid got the first knuckle in. Spit was unforgiving, but he was unwilling to move far enough away from Geno to get the lube.

Sid worked his tongue in beside his finger, helping it go in deeper until he could crook it just right to make Geno moan. He wasn’t going to last much longer, not based on the noises he was making and the way he was trying to rock down into the bed and back onto Sid’s tongue and finger at the same time.

Sid gently worked Geno’s dick over, rubbing at the head fondly, right where Geno was most sensitive. Geno liked to be overwhelmed; he liked it when Sid grabbed him too tight and jacked him fast. He liked the coarseness of Sid’s mustache against where he was most sensitive. It didn’t much longer after that to make him come.

Sid could feel Geno clench around his tongue, his dick jerk in his hold, as he worked him through it. A light hand on his dick and kitten licks at his rim until Geno pushed him away, too sensitive.

His entire lower jaw felt numb, tongue too thick to even think about talking. Geno unstuck his hands from his ass, a stark mark across where his fingers had been clenched. Sid couldn’t make his mouth work enough to tell Geno to stay down, just held him there, one hand on his lower back while he worked his other over his dick.

He’d been able to ignore his dick while he’d been licking Geno open, but now it was making itself known. He groaned through gritted teeth when he finally got his hand on it, staring at the mess he’d made of Geno. He wasn’t going to last long, staring at the red left by his mustache all over Geno’s ass.

“Come,” Geno said, no room for argument, as he pushed his ass farther up, the arch of his back a work of art. Sid did, adding to the mess he’d already made.

“Jeez,” Sid said, collapsing on his back beside Geno. Geno just let his hips drop, not caring about the wet spot under him as he rested his head on his arms.

He was a mess, Geno more so than him, and he knew that they should probably get up and clean, but Sid was tired, like all the time on ice had finally caught up with him. As it was, all he did was reach to his side and grab the closest piece of clothing he could find and chuck it at Geno.

“Thanks,” Geno said, too drily for a man who had just come spectacularly.

“You like the mustache eh?” Sid said, instead of bothering with a response.

Geno threw a look at him and Sid smiled even wider.

“Yeah,” Sid said, “You like it.”


End file.
